


Christmas (A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow)

by flecksofpoppy



Series: A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow [4]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Backstory, Christmas Eve, Grell trolls, Headcanon, M/M, Will broods over his blotter, Will doesn't like parties, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will spends some quality time with his only friend, the poinsettia plant.</p>
<p>(A holiday interlude from my Grelliamverse, "A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas (A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow)

**Author's Note:**

> For an explanation of this universe, see series description.

It's Christmas Eve in the year 1821, and Will is working.

There's something about Christmas in England that makes reapers uneasy. It might be the seasonal compassion that humans feel toward their fellow man, making violent deaths suddenly seem particularly unsavory.

There’s a poinsettia on Will's desk that Grell has been twittering about for weeks.

_"How lovely! Such a beautiful shade of red! Like blood on snow. Oh, William, who is this colleague that sent you such a perfect gift, for surely he is mine as well."_

The "colleague" is actually Will himself. He doesn't know why he bought it, but it's certainly brightened up the office more than he’s willing to admit. He waters it faithfully, and it has stayed alive. 

The holiday staff party is happening just outside his door, but he's closed it, re-examining all of the reaps that have been logged for December.

Murder/suicide: a man with consumption that took his wife with him.

Freezing: a child stuck out in the cold selling matches.

Drowning: a woman caught in the undercurrent of the Thames from a boat en-route to a holiday party.

Yes, _tick, tick_ \- all taken care of, even Grell's reaps. Everything neat and tidy.

Yet, perhaps...

Some of those tick marks are a bit sloppy. And perhaps... they need to be erased and re-written. And there must be _something_ else to do...

And Will would really rather not go out to the party.

He checks over everything again and erases some of the offending ticks that seem don't seem neat enough.

He's not doing overtime; he's not even clocked in. There's just something about the glow of his office lamp, the poinsettia, the warmth of his chair that he sits in far more often than his bed, that makes him feel comfortable. Normally, Will prefers to go home on the hour, but not tonight.

The door swings open suddenly and the sound of loud voices, noisemakers, and a potent whiff of alcohol invade the quiet, peaceful scene in his office.

"Spears," says a familiar voice, and Will looks up to see his old office mate. "You really should come and join the festivities. It's quite jovial."

"I'd rather not, thank you," he says, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses. "I have work to finish."

The man just shrugs, a bit drunk, and closes the door again.

Will takes off his glasses; he would almost rather sleep here tonight. There's something about the holidays, even though they're human ones, that Will despises, whether he'll admit it or not.

Drowning, freezing, suicide... yes, how very Christmasy indeed.

He lies his head on the blotter of his desk and shuts his eyes. It's quite pleasant in some strange way. 

The door opens again, and he doesn't bother looking up. "Really, I said--"

"Oh, _William..._ " comes a melodic voice, and now Will truly doesn't want to raise his head.

"Please leave me be, Sutcliff," he says wearily.

He can hear Grell pause, and then the door shuts. He breathes a sigh of relief until he hears the click of heeled shoes come to stand in front of his desk.

"Honestly, Grell," he repeats, his voice tired, "please."

Unexpectedly, there are fingers in his hair, stroking gently.

"William," comes the soft voice, "you're sleeping in your office when there's a wonderful party happening just outside?"

Will suddenly doesn't want to move; he doesn't, at least for a few seconds, and lets Grell touch his hair. It feels nicer than he's willing to admit. His pride wins out, though, and he sits up, displacing Grell's hand.

And there, in front of him, is the most ridiculous thing he's ever seen.

Grell is wearing a Santa Claus suit in the form of a very short red dress trimmed with white lace, fishnet stockings, and red heeled shoes. The entire ensemble is topped off with a rather jaunty hat over coiffed red hair that brushes the top of Grell’s shoulders now.

"Are you out of your mind, Sutcliff?" Will says, as he slides his glasses back on and yawns despite himself. "What exactly are you wearing?"

"The Claus needs a Missus, now doesn't he?" Grell replies silkily.

"Grell," Will says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "off with you. Go enjoy the party. I'm sure it's coming out of my budget."

Grell does nothing of the sort; he walks around to Will's side of the desk and bends to look him squarely in the face.

"Mr. Spears," he says simply, "you really ought to get out more."

And without further ado, he leans forward to kiss Will on the mouth.

Will, being tired, and feeling rather resentful of his list of terrible deaths, and realizing how pathetic it is to want to sleep on his blotter, kisses back.

"Yes," Grell breathes as he draws back, "William."

Before Will knows what's happening, Grell has bent and wrapped his arms around Will's shoulders at an awkward angle as he tries for another kiss.

"Honestly, Sutcliff," he says, standing and pulling Grell closer. "If you're really going to do this, at least do it properly." He lifts Grell up by the back of his legs to sit on the edge of the desk, and Grell immediately lies back, arching his body and throwing his head back. 

Papers go flying, pens and pencils roll off and hit the floor, and Will doesn't care. He _wants_ ; he wants Grell, he wants his warm skin. He wants because Grell wants _him_.

"Will," Grell moans, eyes closed and neck bared, "touch me."

And then, Will freezes for a moment and gathers his bearings, watching Grell laid out on his desk. 

He's the personification of sex, and even more so for the fact that he's surrounded by dull facts and figures and unpleasant assignments; it makes the shock of the red dress and red hair all the more striking. 

But Grell doesn't want _him_. 

"No," Will says finally, tearing himself away and shaking his head. He sighs, turning his back to the desk and Grell, and stares hard at the poinsettia.

Grell wants any man within the vicinity; Grell simply preys upon the weak, preys upon the humans he reaps, the men he consumes, the beings that get caught in his hair and eyelashes and his legs and--

Will really needs to stop thinking right now.

Better yet, Will really needs to stop indulging his own cravings with his hand while thinking about _that night_ after exams... _that afternoon_ during trainee assignment... and really, just sod it all. He needs to stop thinking about Grell and tossing off.

He hears the rustle of papers as Grell rights himself and gets to his feet.

"William," Grell says behind him; a hand is placed on his shoulder, fingers dragged up lightly along his neck. Will shrugs the hand off and frowns.

"Please go, Sutcliff," he says. "I apologize for my inappropriate conduct."

He feels Grell draw close and kiss the back of his neck, and he can't help but sigh.

"Come now, William," Grell says coaxingly. "You enjoyed it the last time."

Will doesn't answer, but he also doesn't push Grell away. 

Grell's arms wrap around him from behind and fingers start to explore, loosening his tie and unfastening the first few buttons of his shirt to slide against his chest and pinch at his nipples. Lips and teeth end up against his neck and the overwhelming sensations render Will incapable of clear thought, particularly when Grell pushes his hand lower to brush against Will's cock.

"Ah," Will chokes out.

"Feels nice?" Grell asks softly into his ear.

"Yes," Will gasps. He's beyond rationality at this point.

He's lonely, really, except for the poinsettia.

"Come, Will," Grell says, kissing slowly down his neck as he fondles him. "You already know how to debauch me."

Will can't formulate a worthy response.

"Do you still liked being touched?" Grell asks.

"Yes," Will moans. "Oh, yes." He's panting, and he can feel his face heating as his mind yells at him to stop.

But Grell isn't being unkind; he wants this, just as he wanted it the other times.

"Merry Christmas," he says, "my darling."

"Don't call me--," Will doesn't finish his sentence, and instead lets out a soft cry when Grell unzips his trousers and slides clever, careful fingers inside.

He can feel Grell laugh a bit and then his breath becomes heavier as he starts to stroke. Will immediately pushes his own body back against Grell's, and Grell stands firmly in place, his other hand wrapped around Will's hip.

Will just tips his head back against Grell's shoulder and fights to breathe.

Grell hums out a moan as he feels Will press more firmly against him. Will moans too, totally disarmed, and gets out half of Grell's name before taking a sharp breath in as Grell runs his thumb over the tip of Will's cock.

After a few minutes of harsh panting and broken names, Will finally stops Grell, takes a few unsteady steps forward, and fumbles to flip the lock of his office door into place.

When it clicks, Grell's hands are on him again, grasping his hips from behind. He slides the jacket off Will's shoulders and presses hot kisses down Will's spine through his shirt; Will just arches his back and moans. Grell finally turns him around so they're facing each other, and the color reaches Will's face as their eyes meet.

Grell just smiles at him a little and slowly pushes Will's trousers down until they reach his ankles. He steps out of them, and Grell kicks them to the side. He pushes Will back to sit in the chair that Grell himself usually occupies, and spreads Will’s legs to kiss up inner thighs. Will shudders and arches his back, and then he can feel Grell looking at him, watching intently.

"Perfect," he says, and then bends to take Will's cock into his mouth.

Will lets out a genuine cry now and his fingers immediately fly to knock the ridiculous hat off and stroke through Grell's hair. The heat of Grell's mouth is almost unbearable, and when he slows down, languidly running his tongue over Will’s cock and exploring the responses he receives, Will lets out a long, unabashed groan.

Will feels the tension and urgency lessen, though his body is still wound tightly with heat. He closes his eyes; it's the first time he's let go of control in a very long time. His mouth falls open, his head falls back, and he sighs deeply, a faint tendril of a moan lurking there, lazily moving his hips as he strokes his fingers through Grell's hair.

Any other time, he would be deriding himself for his ridiculous indulgence. Right now, though, he doesn't care. The world is centered on the wet heat of Grell's mouth, the texture of silky hair against his inner thighs, and the strong hand grasping his hip.

Grell finally pulls back and Will opens his eyes to look down. Grell is staring back, eyes glazed and lips swollen as strokes himself slowly under the dress. As he moves to stand up, Will pulls him forward, and they both gasp when Grell ends up with his knees around Will’s hips. Will slides his hands slowly up the backs of Grell’s thighs, shivering a bit as Grell kisses up his neck.

Will keeps going up underneath Grell's dress slowly until his fingers brush against a pair of silk panties. He teases his fingers underneath the seam and run along the edge until giving a suggestive pull.

_"Will,"_ Grell breathes.

Will pulls them down Grell's thighs slowly; he revels in the feel of soft, smooth skin that's gradually revealed. Grell gets them off without much trouble, and then he's wearing nothing underneath the dress, just fishnet stockings held up by garters and his heeled shoes. 

Grell takes in a sharp breath as Will touches his cock and then slides his fingers further back to explore. Grell buries his face in Will's shoulder, breath catching, and spreads his legs further apart.

"Oh yes, _yes_ ," he moans into Will's shirt collar as Will strokes his entrance gently.

They frot against each other for a moment, moaning, kissing, until Will draws away to spit on his fingers. He rubs there again slowly, and then carefully pushes the tip of one finger inside, almost a tease.

Grell gasps and Will kisses his shoulder; he's hot, and tight, and it brings back a barrage of memories.

Grell slowly starts to move his hips, fucking Will's finger and moaning. He throws his head back and shifts sharply, pulling Will further inside.

"Will," he groans, his eyes closed. Will is panting, staring at Grell's face. He's flushed and looks positively... enraptured.

"Do you have--" Will pants, sliding his finger out of Grell.

"Of course, darling," Grell purrs, reaching into his décolletage and pulling out a familiar looking container.

"Do you _always_ carry that?" Will asks breathlessly. 

Grell just smiles at him, leans forward and whispers in his ear. 

"Tonight," he pauses to lick at Will's earlobe, "was a special occasion. And I'm so very pleased that I received the gift I truly wanted."

Will shivers despite himself. Grell's breath is warm against his ear, his cock is throbbing, and his veins are shot through with adrenaline and lust.

Grell uncorks the small bottle and drips some of the oil over Will's fingers; Will strokes it over his own cock and hands it back to Grell. 

He hesitates for only a moment, before saying abruptly, "Let me see you do it."

It's an awkward way to phrase it, but from the expression that crosses Grell's face, it's clear he knows what Will means.

"My darling, William," he says, smiling with a feral expression, even as he slicks some of the oil onto his own fingers, "am I to understand that you want to watch me defile myself?"

"Yes," Will hisses, breathing hard and just managing to meet Grell's eyes. He knows he's blushing like a student, but the look on Grell's face is worth the embarrassment.

The first finger Grell pushes into himself is unlike anything Will has ever seen; his eyes close, his face goes slack, and he moans.

"Do you see?" he whispers hotly, eyes still closed.

"I see," Will moans, both hands on Grell's hips where he's still kneeling with his legs spread around Will’s hips on the chair. He leans forward, one hand on Will's shoulder, as he balances and starts to fuck himself.

"Do you want me to add another?" he asks quietly into Will's ear.

"Yes," Will whispers, hauling up the back of the dress and smoothing his hands over the small of Grell’s back. "Another."

Grell lets out a breathless, high-pitched moan as he adds another finger, and then slowly starts to push them in and out of himself.

"Will," he moans, kissing sloppily at Will's neck. 

"What do you want, Sutcliff?" Will pants, one hand grasping the back of Grell's head and fisted in his hair.

"I want _you,_ " Grell groans. The wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out of his own body is all that Will can hear now; no more caroling, drinking, noise. Just Grell.

"Stop," he hisses. Grell immediately stops and slowly pulls his fingers out; Will strokes himself a few times and finds the entrance to Grell's body.

Grell lets out a small, sharp noise as Will pushes in slowly. Will tips his head back and moans; he closes his eyes, and Grell kisses him. Their mouths stay together, lips pressed against each other, breathing heavily as Grell lowers himself down fully.

He takes in a sharp breath as he slowly rises up again, and Will thrusts his hips up.

"Yes, oh, like that," Grell groans, nipping at Will's lips.

" _Careful_ with those things," Will cautions, and Grell laughs lightly. The laughter breaks into another moan as they start to move together.

Will grabs Grell's ass and holds him in place as he starts to drive forward in earnest, feverishly working his hips up and down. Grell grabs his shoulders and presses his face against Will's neck.

The chair is squeaking so loudly that it's a wonder it hasn't overtaken the music in the other room and drunken singing.

Will lets go, lets himself thrust desperately up into Grell. It feels wonderful, not having to think; just to know that he is wanted.

"Grell," he cries out as he can feel himself reaching the edge, the chair sounding now like it's going to splinter, " _oh..._ " He can feel something hot building inside of him, his limbs loose and working and _wanting_. He reaches between them to seek out Grell's cock; Grell gasps, and it sets him over the edge.

When Will comes, he shudders and jerks a few times; Grell arches his back as his voice jumps an octave with a wanton sound, coming into Will's hand at almost the same time.

Grell's entire body goes limp, and Will slowly slides out of him; he pulls Grell further onto his lap and against him. Everything is damp and messy, and Will smiles slightly as he closes his eyes. 

"Merry Christmas, William," Grell says finally. Then after a moment, he asks, "Do you like my dress?"

Will laughs a bit, and runs his hands back up under the back of the dress to rest at the small of Grell's back.

"I suppose that it's festive," he finally says.

"Would you like to try on my shoes?" Grell asks slyly into his ear, licking at it. "Though I'm quite sure they're not your size."

"I think I'll save such adventures for another day," Will says lazily, tangling his fingers in Grell's hair. They sit in companionable silence for a moment, but Will can’t resist his own curiosity. "Why did you come in here though, Sutcliff? You're missing the party."

"I prefer your company to that of most others," Grell says simply. His eyes rise to look at something above them, and he raises his coyly. "Oh, look, Will, someone’s hung mistletoe over your door."

"I'm afraid so," Will replies, "quite against regulation, I believe."

Grell leans forward and kisses him; Will doesn't press the issue.


End file.
